


Breaking Dusk

by AngstOverload



Series: The Winter Cherry Blossom [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, I will follow you to hell and back, Marriage, Military, Mystery, Politics, Post-Fullmetal Alchemist: Conqueror of Shamballa, Pregnancy, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-09-29 13:36:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17204351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngstOverload/pseuds/AngstOverload
Summary: After the miraculous recovery from clinical brain dead, Mustang is forced to step down from military leadership, leaving Hawkeye to fend for herself.Border war, anthrax, hate crime, attempted assassination… As the Acting Commander-in-Chief, Hawkeye has to do everything she can to restore order.Her timeline?Before she is due in less than three months.Part 2 of a deleted fic.





	1. A Man Who Killed His Own Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arissarr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arissarr/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Months ago I decided to delete the only work I had for personal reasons, only to find that I had more to contribute to the story. So here’s the continuation of that deleted work as I still wish to give it a closure, although there is still a long way to go
> 
> I apologize for spoiling the joy you may have with the deleted parts. If you are wondering, I don’t plan to re-upload the deleted parts, at least for now.
> 
> Special thanks to Arissarr and RedGine (hope I spell it right). You are my motivation to continue this niche work.

Major streets of Central City were filled with people. Small green flags waving in their hands matched the full size flags that were neatly spread over the walls of each building.

The sun was rare in September, blessing the city with bright golden ray.

With the receiver pressed against his ear, he tapped the coin against the phone, eyes watching the crowd-filled street.

The booth had just enough space to allow him to make a turn, as if it was tailored made to fit him. The tight space did not annoy him. As a matter of fact, he felt more secure in a box.

He switched the receiver to his other hand and looked at his watch. Each passing second and the steady beat from the phone reminded him that the street would be flooded with people if he did not leave soon.

“Yes?”

“It’s me.” He waited. He knew the silence would not hold for long.

“You know better than to call this number.”

“Think again. There will be no return.”

“Get it done.” The busy signal was clear enough.

He hung up and pushed the red door open. One foot pressed onto the concrete slab. The other followed.

Looking up, he saw the balloons—white, green, and blue—that were tethered onto the Central Arena. His eyes turned to the tower behind the arena.

A couple of years ago, he was bound to an oath.

And soon, he had to give up his judgment on right and wrong.

* * *

_His head was splitting. Was it too much to ask for a day of peace?_

_The bell rang again. He got up from the couch and dragged himself to the door._

_Bending his back, he lowered himself to check at the peephole._

_A quick flick on the lock and he opened the door. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” He pressed his arm against the door frame. No one had ever approached a thug like himself, especially when he was a few heads taller than the woman._

_But the blonde before him did not seem to back away. “You are the only one who can help me.”_

_“I told you! Ishval is at war! I can’t take you there!” It was unbelievable. “How did you get the address?”_

_“You are a soldier. You must have a way.”_

_He stared at the woman. He removed his arm off the doorframe and stood straight. “You sound serious.” As if he just realized._

_“I am serious.” She seemed insulted._

_He pressed a hand against his chest and guffawed._

_“What’s so funny?”_

_“No—” His laughter interrupted himself. “No… no way.” When he saw the woman unimpressed, the urge to laugh stopped on his own. For some reason, the woman had a vibe that could kill._

_Interesting…_

_“Sir, if you are done laughing, I would like to know when we are leaving.”_

_Demanding, but very naïve._

_“Sir?” She gasped when he grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?” The grip was so strong that it started to bite. She could not let herself loose, no matter how she tried to yank away his hand._

_“You said you want to go to Ishval. Is that all you’ve got?” He reached to his holster with one hand and pulled out a gun. He put the gun into her hand and pulled that hand to himself so that the muzzle was pressing hard against his stomach._

_“Let me go!”_

_“Shoot me! And I’ll take you to Ishval!”_

_“You’re crazy!”_

_“You said you are serious!” He could see it in her. The wide eyes. The quiver._

_Those made a mask. Behind it was a real killer._

_“Pull the trigger. And I’ll take you there.” He continued to entice her. A killer would never resist._

_“No! You let go of me! Now!” The woman did her best to pull herself out._

_Was he mistaken? He took the gun off her hand, wore the trigger guard on his middle finger, and raised his arms. “Okay!”_

_The woman rubbed her sore arm. She was all flustered, but she did not run off._

_“Well, you should have pulled the trigger. You have lost your only chance.”_

_“I’m going to Ishval one way or another.”_

_He could tell she was not joking. Normally he would not care, but… “You, going to Ishval? That place is either kill or be killed. Which one are you?”_

_She was shuttered._

_As a matter of fact, he was a bit disappointed. Since the civil war broke out, the Military had been looking for fresh meat to fill the ranks._

_Snipers happened to be on the hotlist._

_“Get out of here. The battlefield is no place for a woman.” He closed the door but opened again. “And don’t ever come here again!” He slammed the door._

He thought he had slammed her out of his sight. 

Who knew she would return, and became the best killer he had ever trained?

He took a deep breath and held there. Gone with the good old days. He had a job to finish.

The crosshair honed in on the target.

Like he told his snipers, when they pulled the trigger, they had to make sure they kill their own hearts.

Else the bullet killed their sanity.

_Sorry, Hawkeye._

One pulled the trigger. Two lost their souls.


	2. Unfinished Businesses

Hawkeye winced. Looking at her stomach bulging under the navy blue maternity jacket, she caressed it. “Easy there. You are hurting me.”

The child was growing stronger each day. Hawkeye could tell from the kicks. At this rate, it was not exaggerating to say that she could count on an internal injury.

“Commander?”

She looked to her left, where Major Breda stood.

Breda glanced to her stomach, noticing Hawkeye’s hand was rubbing on the same spot. “Little Chief just stretched up?”

“That’s not his name.”

“What harm does it do? Since you haven’t had a name…”

It was true that Hawkeye never came up with a name. She thought it would be better that Mustang named the child. Besides, after Black Hayate, she did not want to hear anymore complaint that she had a bad taste in names.

“Wait…” Breda went blank then frowned. “It’s a boy? You are having a boy?”

“Do you have something for me?”

Breda cleared his throat. He almost forgot why he was there. “Canine units just reported in. No explosives found.”

“Our guests?”

“They are given a pat-down. Unless you want to strip them too.”

Hawkeye understood what Breda was trying to convey. “Can’t be more careful.”

“We have set blockades. Cleared every block within the set perimeter. Every man we can dispatch we have set them to secure the arena. Our command post is close by to handle any unforeseen circumstances.” Breda watched Hawkeye let out a breath, as if she had been holding it since morning. “It isn’t like you.”

She could not explain it either. Maybe it was the rising number of protesters, who besieged the arena, and their chants that had been keeping her on her toes.

Or it was just her hormone.

Hawkeye erased that from her thought.

There was enough false accusation that directed at her leadership. Last thing she needed was to lose her calm.

“Everything goes well?”

And then there was Peter Norsk...

Both officers turned about and saw a blond man in suit approaching them.

“Mr. President.” Breda and Hawkeye briefly saluted. Even they had said it, that address did not sound right in their ears.

“You two look uptight.” The young man glanced to Breda before faced Hawkeye.

He was quite right, but Hawkeye would rather take her time to find the right word than to stir up a hornet’s nest. After all, that man had a history being at odds with the Military. Had Mustang not been there to keep peace, the Military would have been ousted.

Breda seemed to be on the same page. Otherwise, he would have blurted right away and said that it was mostly her.

“There isn’t any problem, is there?” Norsk asked.

There was. For one: why it had to be the Veterans Day?

“No, sir,” said Hawkeye. No excuse was going to help her.

“Good. I’ll see you at the stage, Commander.”

Breda and Hawkeye stepped aside. They watched through the corners of their eyes and only relaxed when Norsk and his details were gone.

Sometimes, democracy could be a pain.

“Ready for your medal?” Breda asked.

“Medal of Shame, you mean?”

After Grumman’s revolt, the fear of militarism grew. Such mass celebration could turn a day to honor into a spark for bloodlust.

Norsk disagreed. By supporting such large scale celebration, he wanted to resolve that unrest and restore confidence to the new government.

...if anyone believed Norsk would work with the Military at all.

“Ma’am…” Brosh showed up. “It is about to start.”

Hawkeye looked at Breda. “Just make sure everyone’s safe until it ends.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Breda then headed to the door.

“And… stop giving my baby a haphazard name.”

Breda turned around. “Can’t blame me for Havoc’s idea.” He resumed to where he was heading.

Breda did not need to remind her that they still needed to get Havoc out of custody. That was just one in her long list of unfinished businesses.

Hawkeye followed Brosh to a hallway. There, they stopped.

A young lad, in black tactical suit, marched from the side of the wall to the center, turned sleekly on his heels, and snapped into attention.

“Ma’am…” Brosh murmured to Hawkeye. “Lieutenant Bradley has been waiting.”

The man, who barely reached into adulthood, had a stoic look. Together with the unwavering eyes he had as he was looking at her squarely, he had exuded in every way a soldier should be.

Despite that, she still saw the boy who would ran to her whenever he saw her.

“An…” Hawkeye closed her mouth. The boy had restored his identity. Bradley was the name he took.

“Aunt Riza.” The boy gulped. “I…”

They stared at each other again.

“Ma’am, we have to go.” Brosh urged.

Bradley was mature enough to see that it was not the right time, but that did not lessen his disappointment, especially when he had to give way and watched Hawkeye go.

Hawkeye stopped briefly at Bradley’s side. “I’ll find you.” Her word was enough.

Hawkeye and Brosh passed the security checkpoint and came into the arena floor.

Chairs, arranged in two separate squares, were facing the stage. Hawkeye was guided to the front row, where she sat among her fellow servicemen.

With the speaker’s announcement, the people welcomed the President with thunderous cheers.

It was several hours on the mundane speech and actual ceremony. As the last recipient and the representative of the Military, Hawkeye had to stay and was given a place at the podium.

That was also her cue to put up a show.

Hawkeye took a breath as she observed the anticipation from the floor. With silence and flashlight urging her, she unfolded her speech and placed it on the podium.

She stared at the speech. The lump in her throat seemed to get the better of her.

Mustang should be in her place. He would know how to handle.

He was not there. It was just her alone.

Then, a commotion started.

Someone wheeled an old man into the field. The ruckus just got louder and louder.

“Give your speech!” The old man told the stage. He had a brown skin that covered a small part of his skull. The rest of his face and arms were darker and web-like.

Hawkeye among all knew best that those were burnt scars. She looked to Norsk, who was standing beside her.

Norsk too looked at her. That was all he did.

“Go on.”

Hawkeye faced the old man again.

“I’m listening.”

“Do you mind to tell us who you are, sir?” A journalist asked.

“Ask the Commander-in-Chief. She knows who I am.”

“Commander Hawkeye.” The cameras trained at Hawkeye. “Can you explain what is going on?”

So, it had to be that day.

Hawkeye folded the paper and looked at her audience. “Twelve years ago…”

Silence resumed.

“A black-ops mission was carried out on the southeastern region of the State. What seemed to be to neutralize terrorists was in actual a massacre of Ishvalan people. Men, women, children… no one was found alive after that night.

That incident had caused an outrage among the Ishvalans. A civil war ensued.

I was a cadet in my last year of training when I was deployed to the war zone. My duty was to protect the State Alchemists in the battlefield and shoot any Ishvalan who came in my line of sight. That includes women and children.

It was not hard to find a target because they were everywhere. Every time I pulled the trigger, the bullet would either meet the head or the chest. There was rarely any exception.

If you ask how many Ishvalans died by my hands, I really don’t know. But, if it is compared with those who died in the hands of the State Alchemists? I believe it was just a drop in the ocean.

When the Military send State Alchemists to the field, it has to find those who can take most lives.

You may not have heard much about this as it was barely reported in the news.

‘Imagine with just a snap of your fingers, you turn dozens to hundreds of living flesh into ashes within seconds. Your victims would not know where the attack came. You hear only their screams in your ears. And you only stop when you can smell something like a fully burnt meat.’

That was what Commander-in-Chief, General Roy Mustang, told me. He was among the State Alchemists who were shipped to Ishval.

The Ishval civil war was a genocide. The strong killed the powerless and the weak. Before the war, the census accounted more than a million of Ishvalan ethnic living in the State. Now, they are only a little over five thousands.

After the war, the Ishvalans lost their families, friends, and home. They were scattered across the country, and lived as refugees. Although they have recently restored their status as native citizens of the State, charges against those who had committed the atrocity against them were never brought to court.

The law failed to deliver justice to Ishvalans. That does not mean what we did never happen.”

Hawkeye took the medal off her chest and laid it on the podium. She came down from the stage and to the old man. Looking at him, she held her stomach with one hand and knelt on the ground.

“It may not mean anything to you, but as the person who took part in the genocide and the acting Head of the Military, please accept my most sincere apology.” Hawkeye bowed and lowered her head.

The old man laughed, but it came as a cry of pain. “It’s been twelve years! For twelve years I have been waiting for judgment to come upon this land of injustice. You are giving me an apology?”

Hawkeye looked up to him.

“Curse you, Riza Hawkeye. I will not forget what you and your husband did to us. Even after your death, let the curse pass to your children, and your children’s children.” He glanced at her belly. “I wonder how you will raise that child when you have had so many children killed.”

He was right. An apology could never clean the blood off her hands. She knew that. She had already planned to carry that burden for the rest of her life.

Her world spun before her eyes.

It was in the middle of the day as Hawkeye was looking at the white-hot sun. Such a nice weather and rare when it was close to the winter.

Almost like she had found forgiveness.

Was that what she was seeking? Was that her real intention so she could cowardly continue her life?

No. No. It was not like that. She was making amend to what she did. Otherwise, she would not have come this far.

Would she?

_“If you want out, I’ll go with you.”_

Was that a lie she told Mustang? So he could lay down the burden with her and escape?

“Ma’am! Ma’am!”

Maybe that was why she was punished. Even that little light she received was taken away.

“Aunt Riza!” That poor boy should not have gotten himself into the mess that she and Mustang made.

“Selim...” She was not sure if that was his hand she was holding. “I’m sorry.” She repeated that phrase, again and again.

It was a lost cause. The dead would never be brought back to life. That was why every life was precious.

She knew, but that was all she could say before she drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An early new year gift. Hope you will like it.
> 
>  
> 
> Jan 4th: I’m thinking about publishing the deleted fic in an iBook. Probably alter some of the content to something like a PG-13 or R rated. It is certainly going to be a little different from what you had read.
> 
> No promise though. There are thirty plus chapters and my Beta is only at chapter eight so...


	3. Take Me Home

“The Military has confirmed three injured and one dead. The identities of the casualties remain unknown. However, multiple witnesses saw the Acting CIC of the State Military, Major General Riza Hawkeye, collapse when the shooting took place...”

“Turn it off.”

Thaw reached to the dial and turned the radio off. “Sir?” He twisted slightly to his back.

“Not yet.” Mustang, at the backseat, had his arms crossed. He had a hat pulled low over his forehead, and the brim was covering his eyes. “Besides…” He raised his head and glanced out of the window. “Can you get through?”

Thaw turned his head and looked to the same direction.

The protesters seemed to have found a new place to make their war cry. The journalists on the other hand…

Thaw turned his head back and fell silent.

Mustang wished they had better option. If he knew, he would not have left the hospital after his therapy session.

He lowered his head to look at his legs, then squeezed his thigh.

His eyes narrowed.

At a time like this...

_“What did the doctor say?”_

_Mustang looked up._

_Hawkeye was walking over to his side of the bed, and sat down just next to his straightened legs._

_Mustang had tried to hold the revelation as long as he could, not because he had anything to hide, but he just needed some time to digest._

_“This may be permanent.” If she asked, he would tell. That was their unspoken rule. Moreover, Hawkeye rarely asked him anything, partly because he was her commanding officer for a long time. And when she did, it meant that she had to hear it from him._

_“Your legs are not going to stop you.” Hawkeye reached a hand to Mustang and gripped his._

_Hawkeye was right. Mustang had some setbacks, but he was never a conformist._

_“But… if you want out—”_

_“I haven’t decided.”_

_Hawkeye cupped his cheek, and he met her eyes. “If you want out… I’ll go with you.”_

Leaving was easy. Staying was a more difficult choice.

Mustang’s brows locked. He hoped that difficult choice did not cost him everything he had.

“Sir.”

Mustang glanced to the mirror, watching Thaw’s eyes moved towards the window. He turned his head and saw a man approached their car.

It was Jennings.

As soon as the window lowered, Jennings stooped and muttered something to Mustang.

“Are you sure?” Mustang scowled.

Jennings nodded.

“Keep watch.” Mustang wound the window up as Jennings disappeared into the crowd.

Thaw stared at the rear mirror. He watched Mustang curl the corner of his lips up.

* * *

“Elina’s father is dead.” Breda was standing behind Hawkeye, who was also standing.

She was looking out of the window. Her arms crossed before her chest and crumpled the cyan-color hospital gown.

“Havoc had been keeping tabs on them since their release. But now…” Seeing Hawkeye being awfully silent, Breda decided to keep quiet. He did not want to risk exposing a healing wound.

“Where is she?” Hawkeye kept still.

Breda raised his brows.

“Elina…” That was the true name of the Ishvalan descendant who poisoned her and killed her children. Hawkeye turned her head slightly towards her back. “Where is she?” Her question lacked energy.

“We’ll keep looking.”

Hawkeye faced the window again. “Make sure her father gets a proper burial.” Her palm smoothed over her belly.

Someone knocked the door.

“Come in.” Hawkeye finally turned.

Brosh entered, followed by Jennings.

“Commander,” Brosh called then stepped aside, giving way to Jennings.

“He left.” That was all Jennings said.

Hawkeye breathed out. “Lieutenant, get my uniform.”

“Commander,” Breda said. “The doctors said you have to stay for a few days.”

“They can’t find anything wrong.” Arching her back, Hawkeye walked to the bed and sat down. “A few more days won’t make any difference.”

“The shooter is still out there. If you go out now—”

“Then make it safe!” Hawkeye snapped. “Whatever it takes, we don’t let our enemy see us weak.”

Breda thinned his lips. “Corporal Jennings… I need your help.”

* * *

Mustang knew his home would be swarmed by the media. He just did not expect to find his guards scuttle around the yard like a war just started there.

Thaw was first to jump off and jogged to one of his colleagues.

Mustang waited no more. Unable to hear what those two were talking, Mustang opened the door and took the crutches. “What’s going on?” Mustang scowled, getting off the car.

Both guards looked back at Mustang, but Thaw did not attend to Mustang until he had dropped a few words to his peer. “Sir, I need to get you to a safe place now!”

“Like hell I will.” Mustang had his ignition gloves slipped on, swinging himself into the mansion.

“Commander! Sir!”

The media and the protesters had given him enough hard time. He was not going to let anything else stop him from going back to his own home.

Mustang halted as soon as he was in. He scanned the atrium, as it was unusually tranquil.

“Sir!” Thaw finally caught up. “There is an intruder in this mansion. We need to clear this place.”

They heard shouting outside.

“Get to your room and lock the door.” Thaw dashed out.

Mustang seemed to know better. He took his time getting upstairs and went into his bedroom.

The door closed behind him, but he did not bother to lock it.

Mustang slowly got to his bed and sat down. He let the crutches rested against a small cabinet next to the bed. “You have the face to see me,” he growled, turning his face towards his back.

Behind the billowing white curtain, a bald giant loomed in. “You should think about changing your details.”

“I hand-picked them myself. They might not be the best, but they are loyal, unlike someone who bit his owner’s hand. And where is my dog?”

“Which one?” The man raised his brow. “Oh, probably fell asleep somewhere…”

“If anything happened to that dog, I won’t be the one you need to worry.”

The giant laughed. “She may be one of the best, but I hold the record.”

Mustang snorted. “Funny… I wonder how a record holder missed his shot.”

“It wasn’t me.”

“Then explain to me why he is still alive and Hawkeye in the hospital!” Mustang snapped.

The giant knitted his brows. “You think I would hurt her.”

“It certainly isn’t your first time.” Mustang waited for a retort but there was a long pause instead. “Getting quiet now?”

“There was a second shooter.”

Mustang widened his eyes. “You know that shooter?”

“No. I was about to pull the trigger when it happened. My guess… it was aiming for her.”

Mustang gritted his teeth. “Get your job done.”

“You are still looking to get even? Pull out now before it’s too late!”

“If you don’t get it done, don’t come back.”

“Sir!” Thaw barged in.

Mustang looked at him with wide eyes.

“Is everything all right?”

Mustang twisted his body to his back. No one was there.

“Sir, did something happened?”

Mustang breathed out. “No.” He faced Thaw. “Have you seen Hayate?”

“We found him sleeping with his head inside a trash can.” Thaw shrugged.

Mustang inhaled through his nostrils and huffed loudly.

Lucky mutt.

* * *

A hall filled with people running out of patience.

“The CIC is here!” Someone shouted.

The hall became tumultuous. All stood up from their seats.

Brosh stood forward. “Please, everyone! Settle down! The Commander will take questions later!”

Hawkeye waited, standing in the center. Her silence cued the guests to follow and take their seats.

“At around twelve forty-five p.m.,” Hawkeye spoke, “a shooting took place at Central Arena. Three are injured. One is confirmed dead. His name was Wihdu Massaad. We are still investigating the identity of the shooter. These are everything we have for now.”

Hands raised.

“Yes.” Hawkeye picked one randomly.

“There are witnesses who saw you collapse and were taken to this hospital. What happened?”

“I heard shooting and I ducked.”

The floor laughed.

“Then why are you in the hospital?”

“Just to make sure everything is okay. Nothing to be alarmed.”

“The victim, Wihdu Massaad… Was he the one who confronted you during the ceremony?”

“Yes.”

“In your speech, you admitted that you and Commander Mustang are accounted for Ishvalan genocide. Are you acknowledging it now only because you have immunity as a CIC?”

“I never tried to hide my participation in the genocide. Immunity or without—”

“But your apology was twelve years late. And… it was after an Ishvalan confronted you.”

“You are right. I am not justifying everything I did was right. War is never right.”

“Are you going to be put on trial?”

“I am not in the position to speculate. I shall accept any consequence that may come.” Hawkeye glanced at the people. “That is all I have to say.” She stepped down and off with her staff.

The rest in the hall stood up and cried out their demands.

“Tactless, absolutely foolish…” Breda joined Hawkeye, walking beside her. “Maybe that is just what the public needs.” He turned his face to her.

Surprisingly, Hawkeye did not argue. Looking forward and her mouth partly open, she did not seem to have registered what he had said.

He could hear her breathing, which was more noticeable than other people, as she slowed down along with everyone who was following her.

They stopped.

“Commander?”

Breda watched a bead of sweat on Hawkeye’s temple trail down. That day was a little hot, but she did not have to grip onto his arm as if her life was depending on it.

“Get Roy.” She was barely audible.

“What the hell have you done? Commander Hawkeye!”

Crap!

“Do you know how much damage you have caused?” The man, in blue uniform, stormed towards them. Two other officers accompanied him.

“Generals!” Breda made a huge step to his left, shielding Hawkeye. “Perhaps we can arrange a meeting to address your concern.” He grinned.

“A meeting? We demand an answer now!” One of them shouted. “And why are you hiding behind your subordinate?”

“I…” Hawkeye slurred.

“You see, sirs.” Breda pointed behind, where they came out. “The journalists are just behind that door. We don’t want our conversation to be overheard, right?”

The generals shuttered.

“Generals…” Hawkeye’s foot scuffed forward while Breda gave way. “I will give you an explanation. You have my word.”

The generals stared, then glanced at each others.

“You better have a valid reason for this fiasco.” One of them said, emphasizing the last word, then left with his peers.

Hawkeye’s stance wobbled.

Breda locked her upper arms with his hands, holding her up. “Well, isn’t it too hot in here? We should get some fresh air!” Breda said brightly, then murmured to Hawkeye. “We need to get you a doctor.”

“No…” Her eyes dazed. “Take me home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More troubles are coming to this couple. Roy is not going to sit still. He's like a pittbull, once he bites on something, he never let go.
> 
> I have no idea how long Riza could hold. There are just too many things piling up
> 
> Sorry that the updates are getting late. I think the update schedule will maintain like that until end of the year.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter.


	4. Their Dream. His Fear.

“Were you out of your mind?!”

Bradley lowered his head. “I apologize, General.”

“Apologize?” Dunley turned around and glared at Bradley. “I put my neck on the line for you! Is this how you repay me?”

“I am forever indebted, but Commander Hawkeye is family. I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing.”

“You’ve abandoned your post! Had I not sent someone to drag you out, would you care to come at all?” Dunley poked his finger on Bradley’s shoulder. “You ungrateful thing!”

“Hahahaha!”

The surprised officers turned to the intrusion.

“General Yuskof!” Bradley saluted.

Yuskof nodded his head at the young soldier. “You are Bradley if I recall correctly.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Well, aren’t you like General Dunley?”

“General Yuskof! How can I help?” Dunley was not happy at all.

“I heard! You still haven’t found the shooter.”

“Lieutenant Bradley…” Dunley had his eyes locked on Yuskof. “You may dismiss.”

They waited until Bradley left.

Dunley narrowed his eyes. “Are you worried because you are involved?”

“General Dunley! I hope you have proof. Else, that accusation is going to cost you.”

“If not, why are you here?”

“Let’s not waste anymore time.” Yuskof turned to the door. “Lieutenant Colonel!”

A tall blond stepped into the office.

Dunley widened his eyes. “General Yuskof!” He roared.

“Oh! Why be surprised?”

The lieutenant colonel saluted to Dunley, who realized he was staring into a pair of cold eyes.

Yuskof grasped the lieutenant colonel’s shoulders. “I don’t have to introduce you, do I? The senior officers have agreed to help. He’ll be the lead investigator of the case.”

* * *

_“Would you hate this child if I die?”_

_Mustang stared at his wife. He could see the reluctance on her face, even more so when she caressed her stomach._

_He sighed._

_Hawkeye was so ready to be a mother. Had her heart not stopped that day…_

_“You should know that I will always choose you.” He told her the truth, because that was what she deserved._

_They had been through countless trials. It became worse after they were married._

_He never let her go. Not back then. Not ever. Why should he? Because that person was his own flesh and blood?_

_He would not. Not even the hurt on her face made him regret of his decision._

_“That said…” Mustang pressed his palm on Hawkeye’s stomach. “I don’t intend to give up my heir.” He was ruthless, but he wanted that child. Their child._

_She smiled. Finally. “Greedy, aren’t you?”_

_“You know my middle name.” Mustang withdrew his hand._

_Everyone wanted more, especially what he or she could not have. Unlike others, Mustang was not ashamed to admit that._

_“Let’s watch the cherry blossoms together.”_

_“Commander…” Hawkeye sighed. “It’s not the season.”_

_Randomness. It always caught her off guard._

_Mustang laughed. “Next Spring then.”_

_Hawkeye frowned. “Commander—”_

_“The front yard will be covered in pink.” Mustang faced forward, looking at the trees. “You, me, and our baby… We can sit over there…” He pointed at the green lawn. “What do you think?” He could see themselves sitting under the tree. Hawkeye holding their son in her arms… Pink petals showering on them... It was—_

_“Beautiful.”_

_That word turned Mustang’s head._

_She smiled. He smiled too._

_“Just the three of us?” She looked at him. Her eyes glowed with hope._

_“Well, Hayate will crash the party whether he’s invited or not.”_

_Hawkeye chuckled._

_Mustang received a kiss on his cheek._

_“Let’s watch the cherry blossoms together,” Hawkeye said. “Three of us.”_

* * *

The main door burst open. Mustang, in a wheelchair, rolled out in hurry. “What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Breda was already standing by at the courtyard and followed Mustang. “She just asked to get you.”

“Then why did you not send for me?” Mustang pushed the wheels as hard as he could.

“Long story. Trust me that I did my best.” Breda pulled the door open.

Mustang saw his wife slumping in her seat. Her eyes shut, but she was breathing steadily.

“Hawkeye?”

“Roy…” Hawkeye barely opened her eyes. “The baby...”

Mustang’s heart leapt. “Are you bleeding?” He searched her for traces of blood, but there was none.

“No…” Hawkeye tried her best to keep her eyes open. “It’s… something else.”

Mustang froze, staring at Hawkeye. Her gaze to his eyes was sharp, as if she was sending him a message.

“She doesn’t let me get the doctors, not even Huskie.” Breda rubbed the back of his neck.

“Huskie’s in countryside,” Mustang said.

“What do we do then?”

“Get her inside. Take the guest room.”

* * *

He almost forgot about that ‘something else’.

She had been stable for weeks. He thought he had it under control.

How could he be so careless?

“It’s going to be okay. Everything’s going to be okay…”

“Sir? Sir?”

He finally saw his servant.

The latter glanced to Hawkeye, who was lying on the bed. “She’s freezing.”

Think, Mustang. Think.

“I’ll go get a doctor.” Breda could not bear anymore.

“Stop.”

Breda swirled towards Mustang. “Are you seriously going to just do nothing?”

Mustang did not argue. He wheeled himself to a table and grabbed a pen and a piece of paper. He scribbled something on the paper and gave it to his servant. “Go to the basement and grab everything in that list.”

“The basement, sir?” His servant raised a brow.

“Yes.” Mustang had a cold glare.

The servant hurried off.

Mustang turned to Breda. “The Military—”

“Just leave it to me. You take care of Hawkeye.” Breda left.

* * *

_“Hawkeye!”_

_That place was too big. There were too many rooms._

_“Hawkeye!” He tried his best. He just could not find her._

_“Hawkeye!” He barged into a room._

_The pungent smell of rust overwhelmed his olfactory receptors._

_He looked down and faltered at the red pool that spread and invaded his space._

_The sound of dripping liquid raised his head. His eyes traced to a bed. There was so much blood that he could not tell if deep red was the original color of the sheet._

_His throat constricted. Eyes widened in terror._

_A pair of legs—bare and sprawled over the bed. Blood smeared the inner thighs, a chunk of meat in between—raw and covered in blood._

_That was not everything. It has a recognizable head. A full set of limbs retracted close to its body. The creature was small, likely to have fully developed..._

_But it was as still as a rock._

_The cry of a newborn resounded in his ears._

_His heart pounded. He froze. His eyes was forced to stare at the creature._

_That was when its eyes shot open._

Mustang gasped and inclined his torso forward.

The same dream. This time it was more vivid.

He slapped a palm on his face, trying to catch his breath. Through the slit between his fingers, he saw a dented pillow and learnt that the bed was empty.

His new nightmare began.

“Hawkeye!” He pushed himself out of the room. “Hawkeye!”

That could not happen. It could not be real.

There was not a soul. It was dark out there except…

Mustang followed the light and came to the kitchen.

The fridge was open. A rustling sound came behind the door.

“Hayate?” Mustang approached gingerly.

The door closed.

“Commander!”

Mustang was startled. They were both startled.

“Commander! Has the intruder returned?” Here came his cavalry.

Mustang did not turn to them. Instead, he raised a hand and waved them off. He was more concerned on the person before him.

She was still in her uniform with her hair let down. Hawkeye was holding a pile of food in her arms, covering her white button-up shirt. The corner of her lips stained with whipped cream. “Did he just say an intruder?”

That woman… What was he to do without her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no control on the inspiration and the story at all. When it happens, you get a new chapter faster than you expect.
> 
> Well, well, well! Just when I thought things are getting worse, Riza seems to be doing fine. But she and Roy have a bigger demon to deal with, especially Roy. Let's hope Roy won't repeat his mistake by running away.
> 
> Depending on how the story develops, I may or may not dwell in details about Riza's strange condition. If everything goes well, you should be able to get the answers.
> 
> Bye for now!


	5. Waking Up From His Nightmare

Hawkeye put down a mug on the table before Mustang.

“Milk?” Mustang frowned.

Hawkeye sat down next to him, also holding a mug in her hand. “Take it. It will help you sleep.” She took a sip.

He wrapped the mug with both hands. The warmth was just nice. “I’ve never complained about having trouble sleeping.” He did not need her to treat him like a child.

“Right.” Her blank face just told him that he was acting like a child.

Talking about a man without an honor in his household...

“Sir…”

He raised his brows at her.

She laid the mug on the table but did not look at him. Instead, she was staring into the mug in her hands. “I’m sorry.”

Mustang frowned at those words. If it was about the baby or her health… “For?”

Hawkeye held the mug harder. “Ishval.”

Mustang squeezed hard on the mug, gritting his teeth. Why did she have to—

“What I did today—”  
  
“Don’t.” He quickly backed his wheelchair, leaving. He could not stay. He just could not.

She watched him leave. She did not follow or stop him.

If she did, he might not be able to control himself.

* * *

_It was his first day after a long recovery. The thought of going back to work was as equally exciting to him as to his team._

_They threw him a welcome party, but the rigid smile he showed to thank them turned all smiles to saddened faces. It looked like they just found out that Archer had taken more than just his left eye. The damaged nerves on one side of his face rendered him to be less expressive._

_Well, the world was never perfect..._

_“Sorry, General.”_

_It was her._

_“I should have told them.”_

_“It’s okay, Lieutenant.” He was facing the window, staring out blankly. He would be lying if he said that it did not affect him the slightest, but nothing to worry._

_“Are you still having nightmares?”_

_The same boy. Every night._

_He thought overthrowing Bradley could redeem himself, but the lost soul seemed to think otherwise._

_“Not anymore.” He did not turn._

_“Sir, if you ever want to talk…” She still read him whether or not he faced her._

_It was not like he was afraid to let her see his weaknesses. He would not have let her taken care of him if he were._

_The injury he sustained from taking out King Bradley scarred them both. She did not say anything, but he knew she too had a demon to deal with._

_“Thanks. I’ll let you know.” For a year he had made her his nurse. He could not rely on her forever. Sooner or later, he would have to take care of his own problem._

_Besides, it was just a nightmare._

_Perhaps that was why he tried so hard to prove that he was fine..._

_And made a mistake._

_It was a simple operation to get a wanted man._

_The nature of their job was highly dangerous, but having him as weapon, his team never had to worry a thing._

_The flow was simple. Get the suspect cornered. If the suspect refuse to cooperate, his Flame Alchemy would make him bow._

_Anyone could guess what the suspect chose. No surprise._

_He just needed to snap his fingers, and they would call it a day._

_But the boy appeared, just like the nightmare he had._

_When he realized there was no one before him, cries pierced his ears._

_He ran as fast as he could to the sound, not even the shout of his name stopped him._

_His enemy wanted him to follow, and left him a trail with the bodies of his men._

_He did not lose it. He knew the rules. It was impossible to revive lost lives, but he could avenge them._

_Moving alone and with limited vision, he was ambushed from the left, where he was blindsided._

_He stepped back, but his enemy was closer._

_Something splattered. His heart was still beating._

_Blond hair, bound in the form of a bird’s tail, blocked his view._

_He heard a weight plummet to the floor._

_She tilted her head towards him._

_That smile… He never thought he would see it again._

_“I made it this time…” She came down, bringing him with her._

_“Lieutenant…”_

_He held her in his arms. The moist of his glove brought his eyes to her side, where the deep purple spread._

_“Lieutenant…”_

_It was a nightmare. It was just a nightmare._

_“Lieutenant…”_

_He needed her to open her eyes. She had to._

_If not, who could wake him up from his nightmare?_

* * *

He opened his eyes. A thunder roared.

He looked to the window, sat up, then turned his head to his left.

His wife was sleeping on her side, her back against him.

He took the blanket that was over her and pulled it down, carefully not to wake her up.

He moved on to her chemise, bringing it up.

She stirred for a little while, but quieted down thereafter.

He pulled the fabric in his hand further, exposing her thighs, then her panty. He did not stop until her protruding abdomen was fully exposed.

A large circle and within it a strange art, which looked like a giant crest, marked her entire abdomen.

Images of the blood-covered creature flashed before his eyes. As his fingertips traced along the black ink on her abdomen, the images overlapped with his reality, as if they were to materialize.

His eyes narrowed.

He had let his nightmare overcome him once.

He would not let it take him down twice.

After he had covered his wife, he lied down, returning to sleep.

Little did he know that his wife had opened her eyes but chose to be still.

Sometimes a woman had to pretend that she did not know.

Especially when she heard her man crying out her name in his sleep...

Every single night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! Another chapter. I guess the public holidays helped. Otherwise, it is hard to get a paragraph done.
> 
> I was planning for a romantic moment between these two, but they just didn’t go along.
> 
> It seemed like they are still caught in their past. So blame them! :p


	6. The One Thing He Needs

Mustang had been sitting up in bed for how long he knew not. 

Time had lost its meaning.

Until the person next to him awakened.

“I’ve told Major Breda that you are taking the day off.” He glanced over his wife who stirred beside him. 

Hawkeye rolled over. “Commander…” 

Did he look that bad? It had only been some days… “Now that frown is going to ruin a perfect day.” His smile could not cover anything but that would have to do for the moment.

With her frown persisted, he began to reprimand his foolishness. “I did sleep for a few hours.”

She breathed in deeply and sighed. 

“All right… maybe an hour…” 

Her eyes narrowed.

“Or less…” He mumbled, looked away, and then breathed out. If only he had the courage to ask for help...

“Sir…” 

He would not say it unless she pressed him. Perhaps that was what he had been waiting for.

He wanted her to end it for him.

Mustang widened his eyes. 

At a yank of his arm, Mustang tilted to his side and dropped onto the bed. 

Hawkeye had pulled him down and into her arm, letting his head rest on her chest.

“Hawkeye?” He blurted.

“Shh…” 

Listening to her heart beat and watching her oversized belly, he fought to keep his heavy eyes open.

A kiss on his head shed his last defense. Even so, he did not give in until he had placed his hand on her stomach.

He finally saw that he had been a hypocrite all along, fooling himself into wanting everything no matter the cost. 

In the end, he only needed one thing.

For that, he was willing to let go everything else.

Even if it was his own flesh and blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking about how to fix the two’s relationship and then it was Valentines and so here is one short chapter.
> 
> Happy Valentines!


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